We used to have a freelance opera singer on our road in Brighton. Now we have an accordion player and some woman who sings along. I preferred the opera. Particularly since this woman can't sing. And if even I can tell, it *must* be bad...
Read more......we now have a constantly crying dog next door, which is doing my head in. I feel sorry for the poor thing, but it has a... piercing whine, to say the least. And the neighbours last night who decided shrieking laughter and clapping are the perfect complement to insanely loud music with a very short playlist, on repeat.
We need to move.
On the plus side, I wrote 725 words this morning which brings me up to somewhere in the region of 7500, 8000 words total (very few of which need to be re-written after the email I got back from my supervisor; I had thought more would!) and I'm going to do some actual research this afternoon, and that will help me write more (and more sensible) stuff this week. Aim is to be at 12k by the time I go to my meet-the-expats picnic on Saturday...
Some photos of Villefranche, where I still want to go and live...
Well, not really - now the flat has stopped trying to kill us, it's quite pleasant really. It's the neighbours that are the problem. We face onto a courtyard with flats on each side of us, and the people in there are *noisy*. On a level even I find difficult to live with. Skyrock is not my favourite radio station (rap is not my favourite accompaniment to dissertation writing, oddly) and the screaming, shouting arguments are getting old very, very quickly. The mad woman at the end who mutters about the English and throws her possessions off her balcony in fits of pique is, well, disturbing.
The last straw was sitting on our balcony watching our Skyrock-playing neighbour climbing from his balcony into the balcony of his next-door neighbour and go through everything left out there - bags, boxes, the fridge, everything - collecting things as he went. No idea if he was allowed to do so (one would think the whole climbing balcony to balcony bit would imply not) and I'm certainly not getting involved (he's the one with the screaming violent arguments). But it's making me a little uncomfortable about my own balcony and the accessibility of our flat. Big windows are nice, for letting light in - but they also let people in quite easily, too...
We went for dinner in Villefranche yesterday, and it's wonderful. Calm, quiet, small, old fishing village slightly modernised - the old town is like walking into a postcard, it's stunningly beautiful. And the water is crystal clear. Maybe we should move there...
So far, so good. It's lunchtime and nothing has yet broken in my flat today...
Also, we have a new table and chairs on the balcony! Eating outside just got a lot easier! Plus I have chopping knives and a big saucepan and all kinds of useful things! (And a new état de lieu to go through and check we have everything they think we have...)
I've also downloaded articles from the Independent now, for 1988-1990. They used to write a lot more bluntly, back then, in their foreign news sections...
And I met one of my neighbours! Who is American (or Canadian, I can never tell the difference between the accents, major failing, I realise...) and very nice. And who appears to have lost a hoover. I didn't ask how, not least because her flat probably doesn't have any carpet in it, assuming it's the same as this one...
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